


Paint These Walls In Pitchfork Red

by Phanwich



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: "Canonical Dan swearing"), (As Sarah (Wordsongs) would say, (Love that girl), (Over a year later and I'm still not sure), A bit of a fluffy ending?, Burns, Cutting, Depression, Fights, M/M, Self-Harm, Swearing, Ugh this is horrible, Why Did I Write This?, hELP.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanwich/pseuds/Phanwich
Summary: Written in response to the following prompt-"Dan is a recovering self harmer, and it’s been a few months clean. Phil (his boyfriend) is so incredibly proud of him. But then Dan’s home alone for awhile and something happens that he accidentally cuts or burns himself, and Phil walks in just at the wrong moment so it looks like Dan relapsed. Maybe make it fluffy and cute at the end? :)"---A/NEven though this isn’t my first fic, as I’ve been working with other Anons’ and have been writing on Wattpad for over a year now, this is my first that deals with these subjects. This wasn’t the easiest thing in the world for me to write as I’ve dealt with this stuff myself. Please don't read if you could even possibly be triggered by anything mentioned here.*Reposted from my original account*





	1. Chapter One: Dan

“I’ll be back soon, Dan,” Phil promises. I roll my eyes as he places a gentle kiss on my cheek, but can’t help the little smile the motion provokes.

 

“I know,” I tell him, shoving him back towards the door. He puts a look of faux hurt on his face.

“Why are you so eager for me to leave?” Phil asks, resting his hand on the doorknob.

“I can’t miss you if you don’t leave,” I reply. He sticks his tongue out and I grin. “I’ll be fine; don’t worry. I’ll make dinner, alright?” Phil smiles.

“You are forgiven,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Promise.”

“Oh my God, just get out, you spoon!” I cry, shaking my head. “If you keep this up you’ll never leave!” Phil laughs, opening the door and stepping outside, finally leaving. I hear his footsteps echo as he walks down the stairs, and the slight slam of the door as the wind blows it shut. I watch from the window as Phil climbs into the taxi and it drives away, taking him with it. I breath a sigh of relief as the cab disappears from sight.

It’s not that I don’t love Phil- I do, a lot. It’s just he worries too much, and sometimes that can be as bad as not caring enough.

I promised Phil I’d make dinner, so I decide on tacos. I bite my lip as I collect the items I need from the pantry and refrigerator, mumbling to myself as I cook.

“You know, it’s your fault he’s always worried,” I tell myself aloud, the words clear and ringing through the empty flat. “If you hadn’t…” I shake my head. Now is not the time for those thoughts. My eyes land on the bell peppers lying in the fridge, and I pick them up, lying them on the cutting board. “I’ll do it in a second,” I call to no one in particular. I turn back towards the now burning meat and quickly stir it, finishing it off by adding the seasonings and moving the pan off the burner. I watch the flames as they die down, frowning slightly. Something’s off about the way they’re disappearing, and I remove the cover, determined to figure it out. I turn it back on, but unfortunately I don’t move back quickly enough, and I feel the familiar sensation of flames on skin.

“Shit!” I shout, yanking my hand back and cradling it. “Oh, fuck-” I bite my lip hard, muttering curses. I look down at my arm, and cringe.  
The flames caught the entire inside of my left forearm, turning the pale skin an angry red, and I immediately know this won’t escape Phil’s notice. I walk to the sink, running water over the burn. “Oh, God,” I breathe as the cool water leaches some of the pain away before turning the water back off and marching to the bathroom for the first aide kit. I pull out the burn ointment and a large bandage, quickly applying the medicine and the bandage, frowning at how noticeable it is. I’ll just have to change into a sweatshirt and claim it was cold.

I make my way back to the kitchen and remember the bell peppers. The stove will have to wait.

No way I’m trying that again, I think, replacing the cover. I pick up a knife from the drawer, looking over the serrated edges, the sharp blade. Even then, I can tell this one is blunt. I make a mental note to sharpen it later and pick up the red pepper. The familiar motion of sinking the knife into the vegetable lulls me back into my thoughts, and I begin to stare into space, no longer paying attention. I feel a dull sting and look down.

Blood.

“God, oh God,” I mutter quietly, watching as it runs down my arm, staining the pale skin crimson. “Oh, no.” I know I should go and clean it, but the familiar way the blood drips and splatters catches my attention, and I can’t look away.

“Dan?” I hear a horrified voice call. My head jerks up towards the door, and I feel my face pale.

Phil.


	2. Chapter Two: Phil

“Dan?” I call, opening the door. I hear his voice mumbling a slew of words, but he doesn’t reply, so I open it a bit further and call his name once more. “Dan?” I don’t mean for the word to come out the way it does, but I can’t help it.

Dan looks up in obvious shock, a knife in his left hand, blood running down his right. He immediately tries to hide the insides of both his arms, and I set down the small bag of groceries.

“Phil?” he asks, voice going high like it always does when he’s caught doing something he shouldn’t. I don’t reply; I just walk straight over to where he’s standing, pluck the bloodied knife from his hand and set it in the sink. “I-I-I wasn’t… i-it wasn’t what it looked like!” I frown and take his arm, eyes catching the large bandage over his right forearm.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking at Dan with cold, icy eyes. Dan shakes his head, trying to pull his arm back, but I tighten my grip on his wrist. “I asked you a question, Daniel. What happened here?”

“Phil, listen to me,” he pleads, continuing to yank his arm back, wincing with each tug. “I promise, I haven’t relapsed, I swear. It was an accident!” I bite my lip, shake my head, and gently remove the bandage. He whimpers as I toss it in the trash and sigh.

“You burned yourself,” I observe, looking over the wound.

“Not on purpose!” Dan cries, beginning to get self defensive. I release his arm and take his right. A long, deep cut runs straight across his wrist, over the small scars from now healed injuries.

“Dan,” I begin, forcing myself to look away from the painful looking cut, “is this why you wanted me to leave?” He looks offended, but I have to know the answer.

“No!” he shouts, pulling his arm out of my grip and ignoring the blood now dripping on his shirt. I don’t wipe it from my arm; I simply stare at him, clearly communicating that I don’t believe him. “I wasn’t planning to cut or burn myself!” He realizes what he said and slams his left hand on the counter. “It was all an accident!”

“I’m not angry, Dan,” I tell him seriously. Dan laughs, the sound dry and nothing like the clear, ringing sound I’m used to, and shakes his head.

“Good, I was really worried there,” he says sarcastically. “Look, it was an accident; you walked in at the wrong moment. What else do you want me to say?” He glances at the clock. “You were only gone for about ten minutes; what happened to thirty?”

“I got worried and decided to skip the grocery shopping; picked up the basics,” I answer simply. “Seems like I was right to.”

“Shut up!” Dan screams. “You don’t know anything!” I press my lips together, taking a deep breath as I try to keep from yelling back.

“Calm down,” I tell him, putting my hands up. “You’re right; I don’t know what you’re going through.” Dan turns away from me, mumbling under his breath.

“I’m not ‘going through’ anything, Phil!” he argues, facing me just long enough to shoot me a glare. “It was an accident, for the millionth time.” I laugh incredulously, but cross my arms and lean against the countertop.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “It was an accident. You practically shoved me out of the house and within ten minutes accidentally cut and burned yourself, but it was an accident. Alright.” I know the words are mean and hurtful, but I don’t care. Dan’s no longer ignoring me, turning back and angrily glaring at me.

“Yes!” he shouts, painfully jabbing me in the chest. I smack his arm away, scolding myself internally for feeling the tiniest sense of pride as he winces. “Something was wrong with the stove and I stupidly went and turned it on without the cover while my arm was over it. Explains the burn. As far as the cut, I stopped paying attention while I was cutting the peppers and happened to catch my arm.”

“Care to tell me why you looked like you were absolutely entranced by the blood?” I ask innocently. Dan groans, shooting me a murderous glare.

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “It was just interesting to see it again; what do you want? For me to tell you I’m a vampire?”

“The truth, Daniel!” I shout. “Is that really so hard? I’m not going to get mad- I just don’t want to lose you!” Dan freezes, clenching his hands into fists.

“You’re not going to,” he whispers quietly. “I promise you that much.”

“And how,” I say, pausing slightly, “am I supposed to believe that when you can’t even tell me the truth? Do you really not trust me?” Dan looks down and sighs before moving beside me, resting his body weight against the counter.

“I am telling you the truth,” he says confidently, keeping eye contact. I search his face for any signs of lies, but come up empty. I shake my head, part of me unwilling to admit I was wrong.

“Alright,” I reply. Dan looks surprised, but quickly recovers. “But if it happens again, I will drive your butt to the counselor myself.” Dan laughs softly, a bit of his real self emerging.

“And kill us both in the process,” he teases, nudging me softly with his shoulder. I scoff.

“Okay, so I don’t have a license,” I admit, “but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t drive if I needed to!”

“I refuse to get in a car if you’re going to be behind the wheel for any length of time,” he says, looking completely serious. I roll my eyes, and he breaks into laughter. I grin, and then start laughing myself. After a couple minutes, we calm down, and I gently pull Dan into my arms.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his hair. “I should’ve listened.” Dan shakes his head.

“I guess it did look a bit suspicious,” he agrees. “Shouldn’t have yelled.” I grab his shoulders and force him to look me in the eyes.

“I love you,” I whisper, kissing him on the cheek.

“Love you too,” he replies, returning the kiss. Dan looks down at his wrists, the right caked in dried blood. “I should go clean this up.”

“It’s on your shirt too,” I point out. He shrugs.

“It’ll come out,” he says.

“I’ll take care of it; don’t worry,” I reply. “Come here.” I reach under his shirt and quickly pull it over his head, and Dan looks down, face slightly flushed.

“If that’s what you’re after, all you had to do was ask,” he teases. I laugh.

“Only if you’re up for it.”

“Of course I am.”

“Go get cleaned up; then we’ll talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM DECEASED
> 
> *turns away in disgust*
> 
> I might have to rewrite this at some point.
> 
> Anon user phanismyaesthetic suggested I write what happens "after" Dan gets cleaned up on the original post. Yes? No? Rewrite and then do it?


End file.
